


Guardian

by Wandering_Anon



Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types, Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Takes place immediately after MM&B, just know it was not written with that in mind, the relationship can be seen as just a sick ass bromance if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Anon/pseuds/Wandering_Anon
Summary: Rock wasn’t sure what he had expected when Roll informed him that Blues was injured again, but Bass’s involvement was not it.
Relationships: Blues | Proto Man/Forte | Bass
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Bassblues week 2019, under the prompt ‘protect.’ It was not finished in time for the event, but better late than never I suppose

Rock wasn’t sure what he had expected when Roll informed him that Blues was injured again, but Bass’s involvement was not it. 

Standing a reasonable distance away, Rock adjusted his optics, focusing and unfocusing on the black robot near the horizon. There was no mistaking that it was Bass– those fins were unmistakable, even from the back, and no Lightbot would have been sent to the scene without his knowledge– but he couldn’t figure out _why_ it was Bass. His posture, something akin to a tiger ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey, implied hostility and anger. His hands, one cradling Blues’s head, and the other simply at his side, implied innocence and maybe... concern. 

Rock took a few steps closer, his boots crunching in the grass. Bass jolted, springing readily to his feet as he veered around to face the noise with buster drawn and teeth bared. His eyes seemed to pierce right through Rock’s own, searching and bitter, and Rock had to restrain himself from calling his own weapon in reflex. “Bass, it’s just me,” he said, raising his hands in what he hoped would come across as a peaceful gesture. 

Bass growled. Every single synthetic nerve in his body seemed taut, ready to snap into action at the first sign of anything amiss, but Rock was a mechanic. He could see the crushing fatigue wearing down on Bass through the act, and the fresh cuts and burns near the front of his armour told of exactly where that fatigue came from. Before he could stop himself, Rock asked, “Have you been out here watching Blues ... since right after you fought King?” 

Bass’s buster twitched, but did not disengage. “And what the fuck is it to you?” he hissed, and Rock knew his guess was right.

“No, it’s nothing to me,” Rock reassured, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I just wanted to know. I’m here to bring him back for repairs.” 

“Yeah, well, go ahead.” Bass leaned back a bit and disengaged his weapon, all but giving Rock permission to move closer to the scene. Bass’s exhaustion was far worse than Rock had first thought, now that he was close enough to see the finer details; Bass’s eyes were sunken and devoid of backlight, his frame was quivering just slightly, and his core had gone almost completely mute, a distinct difference from the quiet but telltale revving hum it usually emitted. 

Rock cleared his throat. “That means you can... you can go back to Wily now. Rest.” 

For just long enough to notice, Bass’s eyes flitted over to Blues’s visor. Then, he met Rock’s look with a flat and level glare. “Wily can piss off. I’m not going back.” 

“You’re not?” Rock’s eyes widened, a tinge of hope colouring his voice. “You’re not going to work for Wily anymore?” 

“That’s what I just said.” A tight sneer pulled at Bass’s lips. “Fuck him. Fuck him and his goddamned plans. I’m my own robot, and I can do whatever the fuck I want now.” 

Rock opened his mouth, and then closed it. After a moment, he decided to ask the question anyway. “What _do_ you want to do now?” 

“None of your damn business,” Bass snapped, but once more his body language belied him. Once more, he glanced down at Blues. Rock looked between the two of them and, for the first time, got the feeling that he was missing something big. 

“Bass?” he asked, very softly and very slowly. “What happened?” 

For a long while, Bass went silent. He looked first at Blues, then the ice-blue sky, then at Blues again, searchingly and with intent. And something seemed to overcome him then; a gentleness and honesty, teetering on the edge of vulnerability, that brought a weak smile to his lips and a soft light to his eyes. “He protected me,” Bass said, and there wasn’t a hint of resentment in his tone. “From King. Took down the shield with a blast that overloaded his systems.” He huffed, and even that sounded somehow affectionate. “Your brother is a dumbass. His injuries are his own damn fault.” 

There was another beat of silence before the moment passed and Bass stood upright again, glaring. “Did you come here just to gab with me, or are you going to take him back before his damn core blows out?” 

“Right.” Rock hefted his brother into his arms and began to mentally input his teleport coordinates. “I’ll be on my way, then. And Bass?”

Bass scowled, but gestured with his head for Rock to continue.

“Thank you for watching over him.” 

The scowl dropped. For a brief moment, Rock swore he saw a smile replace it. Then the ebony robot teleported away, leaving nothing behind but a patch of crushed grass.

Rock looked at the empty spot that Bass had just occupied for a moment longer. Then, he called for his own teleport, leaving both the field and the conversation behind.


End file.
